Magic Rising
by TheHunter747
Summary: Firenze and Harry team up to try and prevent Voldemort's return to power. Along the way, they will have to navigate the Ministry of Magic's laws, ancient magical artifacts, and the most treacherous of all, teenage life. Is their determination strong enough, or will their resolve be broken?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So, this is a 'what if' style story. I think Firenze got screwed over in canon. A bit part in the first book, and then used as a backup teacher to piss Umbridge off in the fifth book. My question? What if he was more? What if he helped Harry, instead of just leaving the instant everything seemed ok? As is standard, I don't own this fandom.

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The unicorn was beautiful, even in death, Harry thought. He had never before felt such sadness, even in spite of how bad his own life had been. Lying there, broken, the unicorn's body lay silent. Harry knew it would never make a sound again. Even as Malfoy whimpered at some shadow or other, and Fang did the same, Harry approached the body of the unicorn, dropping to his knees once he reached it, the dull pain in his scar not even registering in his mind. Reaching out to pet the flank of the magnificent creature, Harry absently realized that he had started crying at some point. Well, that was fine. If anything deserved to have tears shed over it, it was the body of a unicorn.

The slithering sound from earlier returned, much closer this time. Harry looked up, only to realize that the cloaked... whatever it was, was standing in front of him, it's lips - the only part of it he could see - twisted into an odd cross between a snarl and a sneer. The pain from his scar erupted into white hot agony, as though someone was applying a poker fresh from the fire onto his head. Still, though, he refused to move, refused to give this...monster, what it wanted. He refused to abandon the unicorn's body, even if there was nothing he could do to save it. Glaring defiantly up at whatever this was - maybe a vampire, his mind supplied - he threw his arms out, blocking the path to the unicorn the only way he knew how. Malfoy and Fang had long since fled. Maybe if they reached Hagrid fast enough, he might not die.

The creature raised it's arm, a wand clutched in it's hand, and was about to bring it down, a green light gathering at the end of the wand, when the sound of hoofbeats thundered through the clearing. A large, horse-like something jumped clear over Harry, crashing down onto the monster and sending it sprawling. It recovered quickly, and was about to attack again, when two arrows pierced it. The half man, half horse - centaur, Harry's mind helpfully supplied - turned, shock on his face, only to relax. Harry looked round too, and realized why - Hagrid had arrived. Already reloading his crossbow, Hagrid charged the shadowy monster, but it apparently had had enough, as it turned and fled.

The centaur looked around, but didn't seem to find anything, as he sighed with relief, before walking over to Harry and helping him to his feet.

"Are you well?"

"Um...y-yes. Thank you. What, er, what was that?"

"A foul thing, to be sure. Tell me, Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

Blinking in confusion at the apparent non-sequitar, Harry answered hesitantly. "Um, no. We've only used the horn in potions, but Mr Ollivander said the tail hair could be used in wands, I think?"

Nodding, the centaur continued. "That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one with nothing to lose, but everything to gain, would do so. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are but an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something so pure, so innocent, to save yourself, that from the moment the blood touches your lips, you shall have but a half life, a cursed life."

"But... if you're going to be cursed forever, what would the point be? Wouldn't death be better?"

"Perhaps. But what if you only needed to live long enough to get your hands on something else? Something that could restore you to your full power? Tell me, Harry Potter, do you know what is held in the castle at this very moment?"

"In the castle? The Philosopher's Stone?! Then you mean... that was... Voldemort?"

"Indeed. Your friends are waiting for you to return with them. I wish to speak with you again. Meet me in two days time, on the west shore of the lake, at midday. My name is Firenze. Good luck, Harry Potter."

With that, the centaur - Firenze - turned and nodded to Hagrid, who returned the gesture, before galloping off into the forest. Idly, Harry noticed he was heading the same way the shadow - Voldemort - had gone, and wondered if he was trying to make sure Voldemort wouldn't be coming back into the forest.  
Walking back to the castle, he spent most of the trip silent, being propped up by Hermione and Neville. Just before Malfoy headed down to the dungeons - was that where the Slytherin common rooms were? - Harry called out to him. Turning, he raised an eyebrow, obviously puzzled.

"Thanks for getting Hagrid so quickly."

It wasn't every day that you got to see Draco Malfoy shocked, but Harry had managed it. Eventually, Malfoy nodded, acknowledging his thanks, before heading down to the dungeons, while the three Gryffindors headed to the tower. Climbing into his bed, Harry's thoughts were erratic, his mind chasing itself in circles, always coming back to the same thing. 'That was Voldemort.' Eventually, he fell asleep, his dreams filled with dead unicorns and green light.

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A/N: Might not seem too different to the book, but the stage is being set. And as I can't stand canon!Harry, mine is going to be a little more awesome. As always, review and let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Welcome back! Come in, take a seat. Sitting comfortably? Yes? Good. Then let us begin our tale once more. But just remember, I didn't create these characters. I'm only borrowing them.

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Two days passed, Harry, Ron and Hermione studied, and tried to find out more information about the Philosopher's Stone in their free time, but no matter what books they looked through, they had no way of knowing exactly what the traps guarding the Stone were. So they had decided between themselves that they would simply keep an ear out for Fluffy whenever they got the chance to pass the third floor corridor.

And now it was five minutes till noon, and Harry was waiting on the west shore of the lake, having dodged both his friends questions about where he was going, and he was wondering why Firenze - he thought that was the centaur's name - had asked him to come here. The bell from the clock tower rang out, and Firenze stepped silently from the trees, startling Harry, who had been watching those same trees for the past ten minutes.

"Mr Potter. It is good that you have decided to come here."

"You asked me to, Firenze. It would have been a bit rude not to at least meet with you after you saved my life."

Firenze gave him an odd look, one that Harry was not used to seeing. It felt as though the centaur was trying to measure something about him. Firenze looked away, and Harry wondered if he had passed whatever test the centaur had been giving him. Evidently he had, as Firenze began speaking again.

"I offer my services as tutor, Harry Potter. Do you accept?"

"A tutor? Teaching what, Firenze?"

"Whatever is necessary for you to survive."

That gave Harry something to think about. If it hadn't been for Firenze's interference in the forest that night, he might be dead right now. If the palomino centaur wanted to help him learn how to survive, he would be a fool not to accept the help. And no matter what the Dursleys, Malfoys and Snapes of the world might say, Harry Potter was no fool.

"I would be honoured to accept your help, Firenze."

The centaur quirked his eyebrow. "Laying it on a bit thick there, Mr Potter." Pointing his finger across the lake, he continued. "There is an object on the far shore of the lake. I have enchanted it so only you and I can see it. Run round, pick it up, then run back here."

Looking at the lake, Harry wondered to himself how Firenze expected him to manage any training if he had to do that before they started. "Why didn't we just meet on that side of the lake, then?"

The centaur smiled. "Because the object would have been on this side of the lake if we had."

Confused by the odd logic of his 'trainer', Harry set off at a slow jog. A moment later, a stinging pain hit him in the back of his left knee. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Firenze frowning at him.

"I said _run _round the lake, Harry Potter. Not jog, not walk. Run."

Another stinging hex hit Harry's leg, and he instinctively picked up the pace until he was running fast enough to satisfy the centaur who had decided he needed training. Once he was a quarter of the way round the lake, he slowed slightly, thinking he could rest a bit. He was soon dissuaded of that notion when another stinging hex hit him, this time at the base of his spine, causing him to yelp and jump a good foot and a half into the air, before running. Firenze was evidently accurate at long distances as well as short ones.

Finally, he made it to the east shore of the lake, and noticed a backpack lying on the ground. Looking around, there was no one else nearby, so he assumed that was what Firenze had meant. Picking it up, he fell back to the ground, since the backpack weighed close to a ton. Eventually managing to stand up with the weight on his back, he once again was hit by a stinging hex, nearly falling over again, and only managing to keep his balance by sheer dumb luck. Unsure of how he would manage to make it back, but knowing he didn't want to be hit by another hex, Harry started to run, sweat dripping from his brow, chest heaving with the exertion. Before he made it two-thirds of the way round the lake, he vowed to send Firenze to the nearest glue factory. By the time he was three-quarters of the way done, he decided that sending the centaur to a glue factory wasn't good enough, and he was going to simply kill Firenze himself.

Finally, Harry collapsed in front of Firenze, his face red, sweat almost literally drowning him, and unable to breathe properly due to the tightness in his chest. Every muscle in his body screamed out in protest, and he decided that if this was the warm-up, he'd hate the actual excercise. The backpack slid off his shoulders, landing on the ground beside him. Once he had got his breathing under control, he looked up, meeting Firenze's gaze, only to see that the centaur looked...not proud, but close to it. Some odd mixture of pride and surprise.

"Well done, Harry Potter. I had not expected you to succeed. Meet me again tomorrow at the same time. Good day."

To Harry's surprise, the enigmatic centaur simply picked up the backpack as though it weighed nothing, before turning and dissappearing into the forest. Confused, exhausted, and sore all over, Harry cursed with every curse word he had ever learned from listening to Vernon and Dudley when the bell rang, signalling the start of Potions class. Picking himself up off the ground, Harry began to limp his way towards the castle, wondering just what on earth was going through Firenze's mind.

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A/N: I know, I'm an awful person for neglecting my poor stories for so long! But, the good news is that I have some idea of where to take this story. (At last.) So, updates may actually happen again. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! And favourited and followed, too! Now that I know what I'm going to do with this story, the updates should come faster. (Hopefully.) Disclaimer in chapter one, I own nothing.

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Harry made his way back to the same spot on the west shore of the lake, idly wondering if he was going to be running until he collapsed again. Firenze had evidently arrived earlier today, as the centaur was standing, bow slung over his shoulder casually, waiting for him. Waving hello, he walked the last few steps, and stood before the centaur, uncomfortably reminded of how easily Firenze had lifted the backpack he had barely managed to lift using every muscle he had.

"Welcome back, Harry Potter. I must admit, I did not expect you would return."

"If I gave up after struggling once, I'd be a pretty poor excuse for a wizard, Firenze."

"True. You would be a poor excuse for anything if you gave up so easily. It is good that you acknowledge this. Have you understood why I made you run yesterday?"

"Huh? I was supposed to figure that out? You never told me..."

"I did not expect I would have to do so. I forgot that wizards have a tendency not to think, simply to act."

Harry got the feeling he was being insulted. "It's not my fault! You said we were going to train, then disapppeared after I did some running! That isn't training at all!"

"Oh?" The centaur's eyebrow rose. Harry felt a little jealous of how easily Firenze made himself look cool, but shrugged it off. "When you are born, do you not learn to crawl? And then to walk?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Do you not have to practice these actions over and over again until you can perform them effortlessly?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Then is this not the same? You trained your body to crawl and walk when you were young. Now you must train it to run."

"But I already know how to run!"

"Do you? Do you truly understand how to run? How to regulate your breathing so you do not run out of breath too soon? How to pace your running so your legs do not cramp up? How to pace yourself so as not to outrun your enemy, but outmaneuvre them? Consider all these things, then ask yourself, do you know how to run?"

"N-no. I guess I don't."

"Good. Now that you admit your shortcoming, we can work on fixing it. When we are finished, you will know how to run. Then, we will move on. Now, run round the lake. I will periodically fire stinging hexes at you. You must dodge as many as you can. The backpack will be there once more. You will have one minute to pick it up and start running once more. Any questions?"

"Just one. How will you cast stinging hexes? I didn't think centaurs had magic?"

"Of course we have magic. Humans just choose not to acknowledge that nature did not give her gifts to them alone. To answer your other question, we use different foci to cast magic. Some use staves and spears, others use swords. I use my bow to cast, but am capable of limited directionless abilities, that is, magic cast without a magical focus. What humans call wandless magic. Any other questions?"

"No, not right now."

"Good. Start running!" Firenze cast a light orange jet of light at Harry's feet, who jumped back in surprise, before beginning to run - he had learned his lesson last time, that not running would result in a stinging hex to the hindquarters, and that was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

This time, when he made it to the quarter mark of his course, he didn't slow down, but he was still exhausted. Three separate stinging hexes had hit him, so he had angry red welts on the back of his legs, and was panting. Remembering Firenze's statement about not knowing how to run, he tried to regulate his breathing, timing his breaths so that as his left foot hit the ground, he breathed in, and as his right foot hit the ground, he breathed out. Once he set that pattern, he found that running actually became slightly easier, and so he continued, resolving to pay attention to everything Firenze said - which was when another stinging hex hit him in the right leg, causing him to stumble.

Back at the starting point, Firenze watched in amusement as the child finally took his advice - part of it, at least - and regulated his breathing. The only problem was, young Harry was now completely unaware of his surroundings. Casting a hex with the pinpoint accuracy he was known for, he smiled to himself. The stars may say what they liked, but Firenze had seen something entirely different in the portents surrounding this young man. The boy picked himself up, and continued, a dirty look thrown over his shoulder. Firenze responded with a smile, and another hex, which the boy jumped over - he was learning, even if he didn't realize it yet. The boy reached the backpack, slightly less out of breath than last time - only slightly, but it was an improvement nonetheless - and Firenze watched the sky. Counting in his head, he waited for the minute's amnesty to be complete. Once it was, he looked down, lips curving upwards in amusement - the boy had wasted no time, and had already covered a portion of the course during his minute.

Smiling to himself, Firenze sent out three stinging hexes at once. The boy dodged one, only to be caught unawares by the other two, which meant his chest and stomach were likely to be sore later on. But he didn't stumble this time, the centaur noted, instead curving his body slightly to absorb the impact, and continuing without pause. Good. The sooner he learned how to ignore or minimize pain, the sooner he would succeed in this training.

Ten minutes later, the red-faced, panting child collapsed to the ground in front of the palomino centaur, letting the backpack slide off his shoulders without complaint. Finally, the boy caught his breath, and glared up at Firenze.

"You cheated!"

"I did no such thing, Harry Potter."

"Yes you did! You sent three stinging hexes at me at the same time!"

"Did I ever say that I would only use one spell at a time? You will be facing multiple opponents sometimes. It is as well that you learn how to avoid multiple spells now, when the spells are harmless, than then, when a mistake will kill you."

Grumbling, the boy's whining subsided. "However, Harry Potter, you did better this time."

"Really? I thought I did worse?"

"Not at all. You took my advice about regulating your breathing. Did you find it easier?"

"Yeah. Way easier. But I still got hit. Loads of times."

"Silly, silly human. You seem to think you can learn to walk, and then suddenly you are able to do everything at once. Before you learn to walk, you must learn to crawl. Similarly, before you can dodge, you must learn to jump while running, without breaking stride. Before you can do that, you must learn to run. Do you begin to understand now, Harry Potter? You are a long way from learning how to fight. First you must learn the basics."

Understanding was beginning to shine through the boy's eyes. "I think I'm starting to understand, Firenze."

"Good. Then we shall meet here again tomorrow, at the same time?"

"I can't. I have Herbology then."

"Then after your Herbology lesson, you will meet me here, yes?"

Harry wavered. Did he really want to miss lunch just to train? Particularly when there was no evidence that anyone was going to attack him? But then his thoughts drifted to the Quidditch match, and again to the night in the forest less than a week ago. Someone was trying to kill him, and everything pointed to it being Voldemort. Nodding, he looked Firenze in the eye. "I'll be here, Firenze."

The young centaur smiled. The first true test of his young apprentice's resolve, and he had overcome it. The boy was willfully missing out on spending time with his friends in order to train. Firenze had chosen well, indeed. Nodding in acknowledgement, he smiled once more, before hoisting the backpack onto his shoulders - secretly using a featherlight charm wandlessly, but he wasn't about to admit that - and heading back to the enclave.

Harry, meanwhile, stood there, slightly confused. Firenze had smiled at him. Why? He hadn't done anything to merit it, at least that he could tell. All he had done was agree to meet the centaur to train. Deciding it didn't really matter, the boy-who-was-incredibly-sore turned and limped his way back up to the school, deciding that his first order of business was finding a way to undo the effects of stinging hexes!

* * *

Hermione Granger was acknowledged by most of her classmates as the smartest witch in their year group. Everyone was aware of the fact that she had an unquenchable thirst to know everything she could, which was why it was rare indeed for her not to know something. Which was why she was incredibly annoyed by the fact that Harry had been disappearing for the past two days. Always around noon, too, which confused her. She could have understood if he disappeared every night on the full moon, it would have meant he was a werewolf. But she had never heard of any magical creature that transformed in the middle of the day, every day.

And as with any problem she encountered, Hermione decided that this one could be solved with a bit of time in the library. Heading to the section on magical creatures, she pulled out several tomes that looked promising, placed them carefully on the table she had commandeered, and began reading.

She hadn't got more than two pages in before Ron came rushing in, making his way over to the table she was at. Skidding to a halt, the ginger-haired boy took a moment - or twenty - to catch his breath, before talking.

"Hermione, Harry's back. And it's the same as yesterday, he looks exhausted, and his face is all red. He's sweating like mad, he looks like he ran round the lake!"

"Ron, don't be ridiculous, why would Harry run round the lake?"

"I've no idea, but I'm telling you, ever since he went into that forest, he hasn't been the same. He thanked Malfoy!"

"So? It was the polite thing to do."

"He. Thanked. Malfoy. Mr 'I'm-better-than-the-rest-of-you-so-lick-my-boots' Malfoy!"

"Okay, I suppose that is odd. But I don't understand why you're all worked up about him being tired. He was probably out doing Quidditch practice."

"His broom was in the tower, Hermione."

"Maybe Oliver wanted them to practice without brooms today."

"So was Oliver. And Fred and George. And the Chasers, too."

"Oh. That is odd. Maybe he didn't want people to know what he was doing? Maybe he was..." Hermione's head snapped up. "Of course! It's so like Harry that we overlooked it! He's been trying to train himself in secret so that he can do better at Quidditch!"

"Blimey, Hermione, he nearly broke Roderick Plumpton's record, how much better can he get?"

"Roderick who?"

"Famous Seeker. Caught the Snitch in three seconds once. He's on a Famous Witches and Wizards card. I've got twelve of him."

"Right...well you know how Harry is, he'll try and improve himself even if he's the best in the world. And of course, if we point this out to him, he'll just hide himself away from us until we forget about it. Probably best just to ignore it. It's not harming him, is it?"

"Nah, he didn't look hurt. Mind you, I didn't really see him all that well. Still, if he nets us the Cup, it'll all be worth it, right?"

"Boys. So obsessed with shiny things."

"Like you girls have any right to talk."

"How dare you!"

And just like that, another of the already Hogwarts-famous Weasley-Granger arguments started up. They were kicked out of the library within minutes, but didn't stop arguing until much later that evening, by which time they had forgotten all about Harry's unusual disappearing act.

* * *

A/N: That's all, folks! At least this time around, anyway. Firenze is wise. All hail the Dark Lord Firenze, who is going to take over your world with stinging hexes! Nah, not really. He's kind of a lazy centaur, unless he's properly motivated. In my mind, anyway. And what's more motivating than preventing the return of a Dark Lord? As always, thanks for reading, and please review. Bye!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Welcome back! Bit of a time skip in this chapter, since I doubt people want to see each and every day of Harry's training. If you just can't live without knowing what he's been up to, here's a short summary; lots of stinging hexes, a moderate amount of improvement, and a very amused Firenze. On with the story!

* * *

Harry trekked back outside for his next training session. 'Ron and Hermione have been acting oddly recently,' he mused, 'every time I say I'm going somewhere on my own, they glance at each other and smile. It's kind of irritating.' A soft whistling sound caught his attention, and he rolled to one side, dodging the stinging hex even as he drew his own wand and fired one back. Firenze blocked it, before smiling at him.

"You are improving. That one did not get as near as the last one before you dodged it."

Smiling back at the centaur, Harry laughed off the comment. "Yeah, well, one day I'll actually manage to hit you with one of those bloody hexes! Then we'll see who's laughing."

Chuckling to himself, Firenze pointed to the opposite shore of the lake, and Harry set off without a moment's hesitation. Jumping over one of the obstacles - Firenze had decided that even ground was too easy for him after a weeks training - Harry ducked as a hex flew over his head, before continuing his run. He was so used to this excercise by now that he was no longer winded by the quarter mark, and could usually make it to the halfway point before breathing became a problem. He had been using the hints Firenze provided him with, and had noticed an immediate improvement. He was still sweaty, wheezing, and out of breath when he finished the course, but at least he was slightly less out of breath than before.

Firenze always did tell him that any improvement was better than no improvement at all, and so he kept pushing himself, beginning to train himself outside of the regular sessions, to improve his strength and stamina further. When he told Firenze, the centaur had quirked an eyebrow at him - and damn it all, Harry had to learn how to do that someday! - and reminded him to eat enough to account for the extra excercise.

Back at the starting point, Firenze smiled to himself. This was the first run Harry had done where he hadn't been hit by a single stinging hex before he made it to the halfway point, which was certainly an enormous improvement, and he was looking forward to seeing whether or not his guess would be right.

Harry grabbed the backpack, ignoring the weight with practised ease, and flung it onto his shoulders without breaking stride - two days previously, Firenze had removed the minute's grace period that reaching the backpack awarded him, so Harry had learned how to perform this move perfectly - and began heading for the centaur, determined not to take a single hit this time. Dodging left, right, ducking and then rolling to his right as a hex blew up a cloud of dust from the ground, Harry was within three steps of the finish line to their track when the last hex Firenze fired clipped his left shoulder. Skidding to a halt, Harry growled under his breath in frustration.

"Well, that's certainly an improvement."

"I still got hit though."

"Once. And have you noticed something? You aren't out of breath. Breathing heavily, but not to the point of exhaustion."

Blinking, Harry realized that Firenze was right. Two weeks ago, when they had first started this training, Harry had barely survived this same run. Now, he was barely winded. "Awesome! So, what's next?"

A small, barely noticeable grin appeared on Firenze's lips, as he reached into the second backpack he had brought with him, pulling out two short swords that expanded to full size as they were removed. "Now that you can run, and dodge, it is time you learned how to fight. There is more to it than simply charging in, screaming and swinging a sword around like a barbarian. As with everything, what must we do?"

"Start with the basics."

"Precisely. Thus, you will first learn how to care for your sword, as though it were a part of your own body. After all, to a master of the sword, the blade is simply an extension of their arm. And since I have emphasized the importance of caring for your body properly, you will treat this sword as you would treat your heart - as a precious item that must be kept in perfect condition."

"I understand. How do I look after the sword?"

"To care for your sword, first you must know it. Every dent, every slight warp in the handle or blade, you must know them all. A well cared-for blade will save your life when you need it to. A poorly maintained blade will simply falter, and you will die. Look at this blade, Harry. Run your hands along it's length, and feel every slight oddity or quirk, no matter how small. Once you can see the blade in your mind without even looking at it, once every detail is perfect, we will continue. Keep the blade near you always, and remember - learn everything. In one week, we will meet here again. That should be plenty of time for you to know your sword. I have placed a similar spell on it as I did with this backpack. Only you and I can see it, so no one will take it from you. I hope you will not become indolent with regards to your regular training?"

"No, Firenze. I'll keep training while I learn about this sword."

"Good. Until a week has passed, Harry."

Firenze turned and walked off into the forest, leaving Harry standing there with a sword, still slightly winded, but recovering much faster than he would have once. Turning, he made his way back up to the castle, running his hand along the blade's length as he did so.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was confused. For two weeks, Harry Potter had been running around the lake, and meeting with someone on the far side of said lake. Who it was, he didn't know, but he suspected there were two people meeting with Harry - there were always six legs in total. Not only that, but every time Harry had made a half-circuit of the lake, he always picked something up. But try as he might, no matter what spells he used, Albus could never see anything on the ground where the boy stopped.

From what he could see, it appeared that these mysterious people were training Harry. But why? And to what end? Harry wasn't supposed to be trained, not this way at least. Albus had planned things so that Harry Potter would go and fulfil his destiny when it was time for him to do so, and the boy being trained was not part of the plan at all! Albus was not going to allow two insignificant pests to ruin all his years of careful planning. But he wouldn't call Harry up to his office yet, no. Better to let whoever it was think he was unaware of them, while subtly undermining their efforts. He sent a note to Severus, asking the man to find excuses to give Harry detention as often as possible. With the hatred between Severus and James now entirely focused on Harry, he had no doubt there would be some truly creative reasons for detention in the punishment record logs. He was quite looking forward to reading some of them, Severus always managed to give him a good laugh when he needed it most. Turning back to the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he started penning a response to the Minister's latest query. Really, why the man couldn't pick out his own clothes was beyond Dumbledore.

Two beady eyes watched from across the office as Albus worked, and a mournful trilling sound escaped the beak of the magnificently plumed bird. Flapping his wings, Ramandu - whom the humans called Fawkes, for some reason - took off out the open window, flying around the school grounds and enjoying the little freedom he had. Perhaps Firenze could help him? He was trying to protect the Phoenixborn child, after all. Deciding to wait for a while, Ramandu enjoyed the simple pleasure of flight.

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A/N: Well, there's chapter four! Thanks for reading, and please remember to review!


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